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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27808288">i know a place</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/bloominsummer/pseuds/endlesshydrangea'>endlesshydrangea (bloominsummer)</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>kiss me under the mistletoe 2020 [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>K-pop, SEVENTEEN (Band)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Going Seventeen Bad Clue, Asphyxiation, Doctor Jeon Wonwoo, Explicit Sexual Content, Implied Age Difference, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Sensory Deprivation, Sleep Violence, Sleepwalking, sedatives, that’s starting to become a tag for me</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-12-25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-12-25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-10 16:48:00</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>5,318</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27808288</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/bloominsummer/pseuds/endlesshydrangea</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p><i>Do you want to</i>, Wonwoo begins, forcing the words out of his mouth despite not being able to hear himself speak them. <i>Do you want to go to hell with me? </i> Can Mingyu hear him? He says he would, so he must. <i>We’ll make ourselves at home there</i>.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Jeon Wonwoo/Kim Mingyu</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>kiss me under the mistletoe 2020 [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/2042560</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>7</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>140</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Seventeen OTPs</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>i know a place</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>there IS violence in this as the tag suggest, but I don't think it warrants the graphic warning.</p><p>work is fulfilment of prompt #55 by cvmforgyv. I probably took plenty of liberties with this prompt, but I hope it's all forgiven &lt;3</p><p>events in this fic are preceded by the one-shot <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26909557/chapters/65666482">here</a>, it might make more sense if you've read that one :]</p><p>the title is taken from MUNA’s I Know a Place, my favourite lyrics from the song being:<br/><i><br/><span class="small">It's like you're carrying all the weight of your past<br/>I could tell all your bruises, yellow, dark blue, and black<br/>But baby a bruise is, only your body<br/>Tryna keep you intact</span><br/></i></p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="p1">Deep inside a forest at the edge of the country, there’s a secluded cottage made entirely of oak. The floorboard always creaks an awful noise when a grown man’s weight is put upon it. Fortunately, it’s been a long time since anyone was around to capture the sound. Today, too, and until the end of their visit, there will be no one but Wonwoo and his little prince for miles and miles. Mingyu’s hand holds Wonwoo’s tightly until they’re inside the four wooden walls, safe within a fortress that separates them from the raging world outside.</p><p class="p1">From the cruel reality.</p><p class="p1">Wonwoo finds himself backed against the door, the younger's wide palms now placed on either side of his hips, bracketing him in. He lifts his face and bumps his nose against Mingyu’s; a greeting, a congratulatory gesture.</p><p class="p1"><em>We’ve made it, </em>Wonwoo wishes to convey. <em>We’ve done the impossible</em>.</p><p class="p1">Here, the impossible means successfully escaping the buzzing mansion while everyone is busy with preparations for the holiday season. The impossible means leaving behind the demons that had latched themselves onto Mingyu, their claws buried deep into his flesh, sinking.</p><p class="p1">Mingyu had come to him weeks ago with the suggestion; the request delivered in a low, warm breath fanning over the sensitive skin on the back of the doctor’s neck, making the soft hairs there rise along with Wonwoo’s heartbeat.</p><p class="p1">It took a significant amount of persuading of both Mingyu's uncle and grandfather, Wonwoo doing his absolute best to explain to them that his prince would be better off somewhere quiet and idyllic. The livelier the house gets, the more dangerous the situation becomes. Not only for Mingyu himself, but also the people living in the mansion.</p><p class="p1">The shackles can only do so much, and Wonwoo’s starting to get sick of tending to bruises in the morning only to force Mingyu into making new ones come twilight.</p><p class="p1">Eventually, the authority relented to the voice of reason and let Wonwoo whisk Mingyu away in the name of his speedy recovery. His little prince is the happiest Wonwoo’s seen him in  the recent years when he told him that yes, they would be leaving the mansion.</p><p class="p1">
  <em>Yes, just the two of us. </em>
</p><p class="p1">Mingyu’s eyes immediately flooded with exhilaration at the confirmation and he swooped in to kiss Wonwoo, gratitude and affection blended into a singular act of love.</p><p class="p1">It is more or less the same look with the one he’s wearing now.</p><p class="p1">“We’re here,” he says, tone filled with amazement.</p><p class="p1">There is a strong hint of disbelief in it too, like Mingyu has trouble believing that they are here in this moment and that everything he sees before his eyes is real. Like he thinks Wonwoo might be a figment of his imagination or an optical trick the lights above their heads are playing on him. Mingyu’s hold tightens over his hipbone, and Wonwoo reaches down to brush his fingers over the back of the younger’s hand.</p><p class="p1">His knuckles are smooth to the touch, golden.</p><p class="p1">No cuts, no crimson.</p><p class="p1">Wonwoo kisses him for it, one hand sliding over Mingyu’s nape to pull him down until he’s fully trapped between the younger and the firm wood behind him. With his free hand, Wonwoo locks the door.</p><p class="p1">In all the fairy tales he’s read during his childhood, the princess with the golden heart never once volunteered to lock herself inside a remote tower. Especially not with the prince who was turned beast by some heinous witch’s curse. But Wonwoo isn’t a princess, nor Mingyu a beast.</p><p class="p1">The only similarity their narrative has to a children's bedtime story is Wonwoo holds out hope that there exists a happily ever after. One that awaits the two of them at the end of this long, winding journey through the dark.</p><p class="p1">“We’re here,” he whispers upon separation.</p><p class="p1">For the first time since they arrived, Mingyu takes his eyes off of Wonwoo to study their surroundings. “I haven’t been here since I was a kid.”</p><p class="p1">“What do you think of it?”</p><p class="p1">“I don’t know,” Mingyu hesitates, chewing on his bottom lip. He looks mildly unsettled. “Some parts are… familiar to me, almost like they’re fresh memory. The road we took to go up here, I felt like I’ve travelled it so many times before. But then again, most of it isn’t. Though—” he shifts his stance and the floor makes a cacophonous sound, “—I don’t remember this place being so decrepit.”</p><p class="p1">“It’s alright,” Wonwoo tries to reassure him, moving past Mingyu and into the living room. “We’ll fix it up a bit. Make it better for the duration of our stay. Your uncle was kind enough to send someone to dust off the place ahead of us, and they checked the gas lines. The kitchen’s in perfect working conditions.”</p><p class="p1">There it is again. The brief flash of happiness on Mingyu that Wonwoo wishes doesn’t have to be so <em>ephemeral</em> every single time. The younger man beams and bolts toward the kitchen, picking up one of the bags they brought on his merry way. Wonwoo watches him go and come back barely thirty seconds later, having mistakenly taken the bag containing their clothes instead of meal ingredients out of excitement. He stifles a laugh and simply sends a smile in Mingyu’s direction.</p><p class="p1">As Mingyu claims the kitchen as his work station, Wonwoo takes it upon himself to walk around the place. The main bedroom has been prepared for them; Wonwoo detects a faint scent of lavender coming off from the fresh bed sheets. Turning on the water in the bathroom is a struggle, the tap stiff from years of disuse, but the temperature settings seem to work.</p><p class="p1">Mingyu was right when he said the place seemed run down externally, yet each internal component works perfectly fine. The doctor wonders if it's a play of irony, since Mingyu is the complete opposite of this place.</p><p class="p1">Picture perfect on the outside. Crumbling to dust on the inside.</p><p class="p1">Wonwoo lies down on the bed and closes his eyes. He might as well get some rest—the long drive truly exhausted him. The road twisted and turned so much that he had worried they were lost.</p><p class="p1">Mingyu calls for him from the kitchen once he’s done and Wonwoo makes his way back to him. He finds an entire picnic prepared for them: blankets from their bag laid out near the lighted fireplace with orange flames crackling and dancing, plates of medium-well beef strips and colourful fresh vegetables along with a bowl of mashed potatoes ready to be gorged on.</p><p class="p1">“Everything looks very grand,” Wonwoo comments lightly, taking a seat above the blanket next to Mingyu, who angles his face toward him in a request. </p><p class="p1">The doctor complies without a second thought, gifting a kiss over the plump curve of his lips as obeying Mingyu’s wishes has become second nature to him. His prince sighs into the contact, both satisfied and relieved. <em>Sated</em>, even before a spoon of their supposed meal tonight relocates to his stomach.</p><p class="p1">“Try this first,” says Mingyu, lifting a piece of meat in between his thumb and index finger, bringing it up to Wonwoo’s mouth.</p><p class="p1">Wonwoo’s gaze flicks down from Mingyu’s eyes to his lips to his hand, then he leans in, closing his mouth around the grub offered to him.</p><p class="p1">The meat is incredibly tender. It melts almost as soon as Wonwoo’s taste buds catch the hint of butter Mingyu used in his preparation.</p><p class="p1">A sound floats in the air.</p><p class="p1">Wonwoo is not entirely sure if it’s him moaning around his food or Mingyu moaning at the sight of his enjoyment materialising across his features, but the feeling is shared in the barely there space between their faces.</p><p class="p1">He’s about to pull away when he realises there’s a trickle of meat juice making its way down the side of Mingyu’s finger. Wonwoo can’t very well let anything Mingyu’s made for him go to waste, so he catches the rivulet with his tongue.</p><p class="p1">“Hyung,” he hears Mingyu whine.</p><p class="p1">He does it in warning, perhaps, or in disapproval. He mustn’t want their food to be forgotten, especially the vegetables. They’d be cold and soggy if the two of them decide to put dinner on hold for another type of devouring.</p><p class="p1">Deciding to play nice for once, Wonwoo withdraws from Mingyu's personal space, setting his spine ramrod straight as he sits cross-legged on the blanket. He reaches for an empty plate and thanks his little prince for his effort before he starts eating in earnest. In between bites of food, Mingyu throws him shy glances from behind his dark lashes—long enough to cast shadows on his face, but not too long that it erases his sharp attractiveness.</p><p class="p1">It takes everything Wonwoo has in him not to neglect the damn mashed potatoes so he can get his eucharistic daily bread.</p><p class="p1">“Leave it,” Wonwoo tells Mingyu when he makes a move of cleaning up their plates once they're through. “I will take care of it in the morning.”</p><p class="p1">The genesis of a frown is about to take form on his face, but it disappears like a phantom in the night when Wonwoo repeats, “Leave it, my prince,” in a firmer tone than the last.</p><p class="p1">The hand he extends out to Mingyu is quickly accepted, the younger rising from his seat to follow Wonwoo to the bedroom. They kiss along the way, articles of clothing discarded one by one, decorating the creaking floor beneath their feet. Already, they're making the cottage a better place, just as Wonwoo had promised they would.</p><p class="p1">Mingyu is gentle when he lifts Wonwoo off the floor and guides his legs to wrap around his strong middle. His mouth worships the slope of Wonwoo’s neck with the overflowing reference, teeth lightly grazing the tensed tendon there.</p><p class="p1">Mingyu remains entirely himself when he lies Wonwoo down above the mattress.</p><p class="p1">“Can I try something?” the younger asks as he hovers above Wonwoo.</p><p class="p1">His question is delivered carefully, as though Mingyu is afraid he might step over an invisible line he can't uncross. Wonwoo wishes he knew that no lines exist between them anymore, that if the doctor must part seas to get to Mingyu, he would find a way to do so.</p><p class="p1">Not just one way, a thousand ways.</p><p class="p1">In Mingyu's caution Wonwoo finds a gentle soul, untainted by sin, taking layers of precaution to not cause any harm to befall Wonwoo.</p><p class="p1">“You can.”</p><p class="p1">He moves aside to retrieve a scarf and a pair of earplugs. The earplugs hold no significance to Wonwoo, but the scarf is an entirely different matter. It’s made of the best satin, red in colour and plain in pattern. At first glance it seemed like an expensive Christmas present, if it weren’t for the lack of wrapping to go with it.</p><p class="p1">Wonwoo stares at the items, then at Mingyu, tilting his head to the right in question. Mingyu looks downright bashful, entirely ready to fall back on his request if Wonwoo shows the slightest hint of rejection. Not wanting for that to happen, Wonwoo takes matters into his own hands. He pries Mingyu’s fingers away from the scarf, then one earplug, and then the other.</p><p class="p1">“What do you want me to do with them?”</p><p class="p1">“Wear them?”</p><p class="p1">“Was that a question?”</p><p class="p1">Mingyu gulps slowly, swallowing his fear whole. “I want you to wear them,” he says with more conviction, looking more like the man he presents himself to be in front of business partners, friends and foes alike. “The scarf around your eyes, and the earplugs, well… I suppose that one is self-explanatory.”</p><p class="p1">“Then I won’t be able to see you,” Wonwoo points out, already mourning the loss of opportunity to witness Mingyu’s jaw going slack, the lines of his body turning rigid as he releases himself inside, lighting up a flame within Wonwoo that can never be extinguished no matter the reason.</p><p class="p1">“I won’t be able to hear you, either.”</p><p class="p1">He always, <em>always </em>sounds like the person Wonwoo loves when he groans at the sensation of two becoming one. His stuttered <em>hyung, hyung,</em> <em>hyung</em>'s as he nears his point of no return—they are love confessions unmatched by any other intimate divulgence this world has to offer.</p><p class="p1">“But I can,” Mingyu kisses Wonwoo's chin. His faint five o'clock shadow tickles the doctor’s senses. “I’ll be able to see everything,” he emphasises with another kiss, “and hear <em>everything</em>.”</p><p class="p1">Though he’s already made up his mind long ago when it comes to Mingyu, Wonwoo asks, “Can my prince show some manner when asking something of me?”</p><p class="p1">“Please,” Mingyu purposefully grinds down on Wonwoo’s thighs, the friction making him jolt upward. “Please, Wonwoo-hyung. I promise I’ll make it good for you, and you can be as loud as you want. You’ll still be able to feel me.”</p><p class="p1">He toys with the fabric in his hand.</p><p class="p1">“You'll <em>only </em>be able to feel me.”</p><p class="p1">Ah.</p><p class="p1">That does it.</p><p class="p1">Wonwoo tips Mingyu’s chin down until he can kiss him again, delivering his acquiescence directly onto the warmth he finds there. As they kiss, Wonwoo wraps the scarf around his head and secures it with a tight knot.</p><p class="p1">When it comes to the earplugs, the doctor gets Mingyu’s sweet help before he struggles with them. The younger throws his ability to hear out the window when he’s through with his task, but that appears to leave him unsatisfied, as Wonwoo can <em>feel</em> an additional layer coming to cover his ears.</p><p class="p1">Muffs.</p><p class="p1">There’s a soft pressure against his lips and Wonwoo brings his tongue out to trace the part of Mingyu that’s currently attached to him. He smiles into the small rendezvous when it turns out to be the younger’s mouth. Mingyu’s tongue comes to caress Wonwoo's while his fingers work the button of the doctor's pants, agile hands tugging off the last piece of clothing either of them was wearing.</p><p class="p1">In the pitch black of nothingness, there isn’t much Wonwoo can do but wait once Mingyu’s body heat leaves his proximity, but there is a strange feeling of trust and comfort blanketing him. He knows Mingyu is here, even if he can’t either see or hear him. It’s his heart tuned to his prince's presence, his skin sensing the difference in the air when Mingyu’s sharing the room with him.</p><p class="p1"><span class="Apple-converted-space">Without warning, familiar </span>wetness envelops his nipple. Wonwoo’s body arches off the bed, the doctor desperate to prolong the ministration. His hands come up blindly but they somehow manage to find Mingyu’s head, allowing him to cradle the base of his skull, thumbs rubbing circles over his nape. Wonwoo quickly realises that he’s moaning now, his mouth falling wide open to let the noises out, though he remains clueless as to how loud he’s being or how broken he’s sounding already.</p><p class="p1">Mingyu nips at him, at his bud, now puckered and sensitive. Although he does it tenderly, Wonwoo must surely be louder than bombs with his candid responses. He’s a set of explosives detonated under purposeful, knowledgeable hands that know exactly which keys of his to push to create a beautiful symphony.</p><p class="p1">He doesn’t see it coming—both literally and figuratively—the lube-slicked fingers that suddenly prod their way inside his body, forgoing circling his rim or rubbing over his perineum beforehand. His breath abandons him as Mingyu begins to pick up his tempo, suddenly three fingers knuckle-deep inside Wonwoo, pumping at a ruthless pace. All in the name of preparing Wonwoo for the third act, the climax of the play.</p><p class="p1">If Wonwoo had his hearing, he would be listening to the wet squelching sounds of Mingyu’s fingers moving in and out of his hole now, but he doesn’t have it.</p><p class="p1">So Wonwoo fucks himself on the digits, calling out for Mingyu over and over again because he doesn’t know if the younger can hear him and he <em>must</em>, he <em>must</em>. He must know how far Wonwoo has gone for him, how much farther he will go.</p><p class="p1">Hell and back, all nine circles of it. Maybe they should go to the second circle—the circle of lust—and never return, let the rest of their lives be led by desires and fleshly pleasures alone.</p><p class="p1"><em>Do you want to, </em>Wonwoo begins, forcing the words out of his mouth despite not being able to hear himself speak them. <em>Do you want to go to hell with me? </em>Can Mingyu hear him? He says he would, so he must.<em> We’ll make ourselves at home there.</em></p><p class="p1">A few seconds later, the answer to his question becomes clear.</p><p class="p1">Mingyu’s mouth crashes on his, hard. Their teeth gnash together and Wonwoo expects blood, yet he doesn’t get it. Against his cheek Mingyu says <em>yes, yes, yes </em>over and over again, tries to get the promise to settle in Wonwoo’s bones, written in permanent ink that’s forever binding.</p><p class="p1">
  <em>I’d go anywhere with you.</em>
</p><p class="p1">The second set of words is harder to make out, as Mingyu carves them alongside with kisses all over Wonwoo’s face. A partial attempt to soothe him from the burn of Mingyu’s cock sliding inside him.</p><p class="p1"><em>Fuck, fuck, fuck</em>, Wonwoo shouts to a quiet and dark universe. His throat itches from the exclamations, but he wants to give Mingyu more, wants to give his prince everything he has to offer.</p><p class="p1"><em>Mingyu</em>. Slam. <em>My little prince. </em>Thrust. <em>Mingyu, let’s go to hell. </em>Thumb, meet slit.</p><p class="p1">It’s funny, how the literature always depicts hell as being beneath the ground. Wonwoo knows that in reality, hell is high above the clouds. It is Mingyu’s fist around his erection and his mouth at Wonwoo’s pulse point and his hair soft against the side of his neck. In reality, it’s here, sharp in the bite of Mingyu’s teeth on the shell of his ear, smooth in the red scarf rubbing against his forehead, hot in the desire that stirs awake in Wonwoo's belly.</p><p class="p1">Wonwoo feels a line of perspiration from his forehead making its way down to his temple.</p><p class="p1">He's unprepared for it, the moment Mingyu returns his hearing ability to him. The younger rips away the muffs, then the earplugs follow the same fate barely a second after. Everything hits Wonwoo like a shock wave, immediately and all at once. His breathing is ruined, fragmented, every inhale a wrecked hitch. Mingyu’s panting is thunderous in his ears, a vicious storm that can never be contained.</p><p class="p1">“I need you. To hear this,” grunts Mingyu, sentences split awkwardly because his lungs are failing him the same way Wonwoo's are failing the doctor.</p><p class="p1">The younger buries himself inside Wonwoo, deepest he’s gone all night. Wonwoo throws his head back and releases a broken cry, surprised at his own volume as well as the way Mingyu's whole body vibrates upon hearing him, deriving his pleasure from Wonwoo’s inevitable undoing.</p><p class="p1">“I’d. Go anywhere. With you,” he proclaims. Wonwoo digs his nails into the broadness of Mingyu's back, hopes he holds on to his prince tightly enough to replace the others’ claim on him. “Whether we’re the hunted. Or the hunters. Princes. Peasants.”</p><p class="p1">The end is nigh, Wonwoo can tell. Mingyu’s trembling. He’s trembling down to his strong thighs.</p><p class="p1">At a distance, a war horn is blown.</p><p class="p1">“Heaven.”</p><p class="p1">
  <em>Or hell.</em>
</p><p class="p1">“Or hell.”</p><p class="p1">He comes first, short bursts of white-hot flames splattered across the blank canvasses that are their bodies. Mingyu rests his forehead against Wonwoo’s and holds him still as he fills Wonwoo with <em>him.</em> Him in his very essence, him in the barest definition there is. Wonwoo still can’t see his prince, so he can only lean up in hopes Mingyu will be generous enough to meet him in the middle.</p><p class="p1">When he proves himself to be a philanthropist to Wonwoo's cause, the doctor circles his arms around his neck and pulls him close, letting Mingyu tame his pace until his hips are no longer moving. Then Wonwoo kisses him some more, thinking he skipped an entire circle of gluttony only to arrive in greed.</p><p class="p1">But fuck Dante, the only poet Wonwoo has the mind to care for is here in his arms.</p><p class="p1"> </p>
<hr/><p class="p1"> </p><p class="p1">Not too long ago they talked about how nice it would be if Mingyu drifts to sleep with Wonwoo in his embrace and wakes up the next morning the same way. Tonight, as Mingyu pulls out the dreadful irons meant to keep him in place out of the same suitcase that held their lovemaking paraphernalia, Wonwoo’s stomach churns from the sight—how <em>wrong</em> it would feel to have Mingyu chained up after such a sweet exchange.</p><p class="p1">“No.”</p><p class="p1">Mingyu’s brows furrow. “No?" He looks over at Wonwoo. "What do you mean, no?”</p><p class="p1">“No,” he says again.</p><p class="p1">Mingyu has taken his night pills, that and the extortion from their previous activity should be enough to make sure he sleeps soundly through the night. It has to be enough, because Wonwoo refuses to take Mingyu's state of delirium away from him so soon. "There’s only two of us here, so you don’t have to wear them.” </p><p class="p1"><em>There isn’t anyone here you can hurt</em>.</p><p class="p1">It’s like Mingyu can read his mind.</p><p class="p1">“I can hurt you.”</p><p class="p1">It’s reckless, Wonwoo knows. He doesn’t care. “You can. Asleep, awake, or anywhere in between, you can hurt me,” he accedes, “but you won’t.”</p><p class="p1">His lips part. They’re red from having been kissed, from having kissed, from having left his personal imprint all over Wonwoo’s body. A protest forms at the tip of his tongue, so Wonwoo rids him of it by taking Mingyu’s face in his hands and kissing him again.</p><p class="p1">“Fall asleep with your arms around me,” he breathes against Mingyu’s lips, a gentle coaxing, “and wake up the same way.”</p><p class="p1">Heaven or hell, remember?</p><p class="p1">Mingyu’s eyes are just fluttering open when Wonwoo withdraws from his space, then the next thing he knows he’s being spooned under a thin blanket that’s entirely too short to cover both their torsos and feet at the same time. It doesn’t matter—Mingyu’s front is warm and solid against his back, a comforting presence, and Wonwoo drifts off protected by his prince.</p><p class="p2"> </p>
<hr/><p class="p1"> </p><p class="p1">In the middle of the night, the doctor wakes up alone in the bed that once held two.</p><p class="p1"> </p>
<hr/><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">Frantic, he dashes out of the bedroom to find Mingyu, hoping that the younger would at least still be inside the cottage. The fucking keys—where did he put the keys, God, please let Wonwoo be careful enough that he’d keep them somewhere the younger wouldn’t be able to find so easily.</p><p class="p1">His distress is instantly replaced by immense relief when he spots Mingyu sitting down by the fireplace, next to the empty plates, still dirty and still untouched. The flames inside the firebox are no longer dancing as they were hours before. There are only some embers left to glow faintly, a few minutes away from dying completely. Mingyu has his back toward Wonwoo, knees folded up to his chest, arms coming up to hug them.</p><p class="p1">“Mingyu?”</p><p class="p1">No answer.</p><p class="p1">It might have been a nightmare of sorts, one debilitating enough that Mingyu was forced to drown silently in his fears. Otherwise he would have howled in an attempt to scare his demons away, and Wonwoo would have heard his screams. He feels terrible for being in the same bed with Mingyu and not realising the battle his prince was fighting barely a pillow distance away from. He’s a terrible lover, a terrible doctor, and it’s understandable that Mingyu doesn’t want to talk to him right now.</p><p class="p1">“Mingyu, hey…” Wonwoo crouches down next to him, laying a hand on Mingyu’s shoulder.</p><p class="p1">The last thing he expects is for the world to tilt on its axis. All of a sudden, Wonwoo is being pinned down to the floor, the wooden boards screaming their protests in his stead. Mingyu’s hands around his neck make a circle tight enough to crush his windpipe and Wonwoo can only claw at his wrists helplessly. The younger shifts until he’s fully seated on Wonwoo’s torso, the additional pressure making it even harder to breathe.</p><p class="p1">He knows what’s going to happen if nothing changes soon.</p><p class="p1">Mingyu’s weight on his chest limits the expansion of his lungs, which means he’d experience extreme dyspnea sooner rather than later. His pulse is already picking up from the adrenaline rush, his blood pressure no doubt rising the same. The convulsions will come as his cerebral blood environment becomes more and more saturated with carbon dioxide. If fate is kind, Wonwoo will lose consciousness before he can feel himself fully paralysed—awake but incapable of doing anything.</p><p class="p1">He can already see what his autopsy report would say.</p><p class="p1">
  <em>Cause of death: <span class="u"><strong>manual strangulation</strong></span></em>
</p><p class="p1">But it would be inaccurate to call it that, wouldn’t it? A true disservice, really, because at the heart of it all, the cause of Wonwoo's demise is no other than love. The doctor's vision swims and his muscles begin to lose functionality, deprived of oxygen. Wonwoo is losing power to fight Mingyu off.</p><p class="p1">He looks up at him and Mingyu’s eyes are endlessly dark; the kind of darkness little children fear and are told to stay away from. <em>This isn’t Mingyu</em>, Wonwoo thinks idly as he chokes and chokes, a stranger holding him down. His beating heart aches at the thought that when the Mingyu he loves comes back he’d find Wonwoo’s corpse lying cold on the floor, a vessel of devotion emptied of the soul that used to reside within.</p><p class="p1"><em>At least it’s not bloody,</em> Wonwoo thinks,<em> at least it’s not bloody.</em></p><p class="p1">Wonwoo wants to call him, one more time.</p><p class="p1">One last time.</p><p class="p1">“Min—” It burns. His eyes, his throat, his heart. “Gyu.”</p><p class="p1">
  <em>I love you.</em>
</p><p class="p1">Take him now. Heaven or hell.</p><p class="p1">It’s raining, drops of water on Wonwoo’s warm skin, still buzzing from Mingyu’s kisses peppered across them. Salt on his lips, the sea in his mouth. A strange taste. Akin to regret. Who’s crying, he wonders? Is it Aphrodite, come to mourn the conclusion of a love story wrapped in tragedy? Or is it Hel, come to collect Wonwoo to the world of the death, always reluctant to carry out her task? Or is it—</p><p class="p1">Mingyu’s cheeks are damp, twin streams steadily coursing down his face.</p><p class="p1"><em>No</em>, the remnants of Wonwoo’s consciousness adamantly refuse. <em>No.</em></p><p class="p1">It’s the most difficult thing Wonwoo’s ever had to do in his life, to lift his hand and reach for Mingyu, trembling fingers stopping his tears from falling over the edge of his jaw. With what little remains of his strength Wonwoo manages to apply additional pressure, smudging the unbothered line of regret to the side, then his hand falls back to the floor. The thumping sound he makes rings in his ears.</p><p class="p1">Mingyu’s weight is off of him in an instant.</p><p class="p1">The younger scrambles back until he’s curled up against the wall. Far, far, far away from Wonwoo.</p><p class="p1">“I—” he hears Mingyu say; much like a child stuttering in fear. “I. I.”</p><p class="p1">Wonwoo has to lie there for a few moments and let his body acclimate to his new equilibrium. He tries to clench and unclench his fists until he can feel all of his fingers, then he slowly rises up, forcing himself to sit upright on the floor. Mingyu is looking at him with terror in his eyes, his own hands fisted so tightly Wonwoo is sure he’d leave bloody crescents on his palms.</p><p class="p1">“It—”</p><p class="p1">His voice is ruined. He's known that Mingyu would leave huge, blossoming bruises along the column of his neck, but it turns out the damage extends to Wonwoo’s vocal cords too. Not entirely a surprise, considering how much strength there was in his action. There’ll be marks on his chest as well.</p><p class="p1">Massaging his throat gingerly, Wonwoo gives it another shot.</p><p class="p1">“It’s okay.”</p><p class="p1">“No!” Mingyu half-shouts. “It’s <em>not </em>okay!” He avoids looking at Wonwoo like doing so will turn him to ashes. “We need to leave. You’re not safe here with me. You need,” he pauses, eyes squeezing shut in pain, “medical attention.”</p><p class="p1">“I’m a.” It fucking hurts, this stupid fragile body of his. “I’m a doctor. I <em>am</em> the medical attention.”</p><p class="p1">“<em>Hyung</em>.”</p><p class="p1">Then he starts sobbing.</p><p class="p1">Wonwoo crawls to him, Mingyu now burying his face entirely in his hands and pouring out all his frustration, his regret, his sadness onto his palms. It’s heartbreaking, though not as heartbreaking as seeing Mingyu <em>cry</em> when he was en route to ending Wonwoo’s life, as though deep inside he was aware of what he was doing.</p><p class="p1">“Mingyu.”</p><p class="p1">He shakes his head vehemently in refusal. “There was something—a memory. I see him, Grandpa, he was—<em>please don’t come closer!</em>”</p><p class="p1">Wonwoo would’ve jumped from the intensity of his shout if he had any energy left in him, but he’s almost out of the last ounce of his reserve. Before Wonwoo lets the darkness overtakes him, he has to first pull Mingyu into the light.</p><p class="p1">“Whose doctor am I?” he asks.</p><p class="p1">Mingyu begins to hiccup, the shaking of his head no less vigorous than it was before. He doesn’t try to speak again, giving up on trying to explain himself. Wonwoo doesn’t mind, it can wait.</p><p class="p1">“Mingyu, please answer me. Whose doctor am I?”</p><p class="p1">“M-mine,” he says finally, and not without a struggle.</p><p class="p1">“And when I tell you it’s okay, what does that mean?”</p><p class="p1">“T-that i-it’s I—it’s okay.”</p><p class="p1">“Yes,” Wonwoo taps gently at his prince's forearm, finally succeeding in making Mingyu lift his face after a few moments.</p><p class="p1">“Oh, little prince,” his heart breaks once more at the genuine despair written all over Mingyu’s face. “It’s alright. I’m here. I’m here with you.” Mingyu gathers Wonwoo in his arms before the doctor can say another word. The wind is knocked out of his chest once more, though this time the situation isn't as dangerous.</p><p class="p1">“You’re okay,” he tells Mingyu softly, mumbling his assurances onto the crown of his head. “You’re okay.”</p><p class="p1">“I’m sorry,” Mingyu wounds his arms tighter around Wonwoo. “Hyung, I’m so sorry.”</p><p class="p1">“I know you are.” Wonwoo caresses his hair, twirling loose strands in between his fingers. He's not angry at Mingyu, can never feel something like that toward him. “I know you are. It’s okay. I'm okay, I promise.”</p><p class="p1">At those words Mingyu cries some more, his sobs raising in volume just as Wonwoo thinks he’s about done with them, then abruptly slips into eerie silence right when they’re at their loudest. The hold around his body loosens a fraction and Mingyu’s breathing returns to its normal rate.</p><p class="p1">He’s sleeping again, Wonwoo realises.</p><p class="p1">Wonwoo frees himself from Mingyu's embrace and crawls back toward the fireplace, tugging at the blanket until it’s no longer trapped underneath all the plates and wine glasses. He goes back to Mingyu, slow in his movements, trying to avoid putting more stress on his body as he's still in pain from the event that had just transpired. By the time he gets to him, his prince has slumped sideways on the floor.</p><p class="p1">The doctor lies down next to him and puts Mingyu’s arms around him once more, careful not to rouse him. He pulls the blanket over his shoulders, choosing to protect his tender neck from the cold over his feet.</p><p class="p1"> </p>
<hr/><p class="p1"> </p><p class="p1">When the sun rises the next day and pale rays of warm morning light sneak through spaces between green leaves sitting on top branches, Mingyu would wake the same way he went to sleep the night before, though not quite in the same place. From his position behind Wonwoo, he wouldn’t be able to see the marks he had unintentionally left on the doctor. He’d only be able to hear his lover's soft breathing, Wonwoo’s hand resting above his, holding him in place.</p><p class="p1">Right where he belongs.</p><p class="p1">Mingyu would decide, with a heart as light as a feather, to sleep a little longer and ask questions about their relocation later.</p><p class="p1">After all, it would be the best sleep he’s gotten in a long time.</p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>for those interested, the prompt given for this was: "As a gift, Gyu requests if he can spend Christmas with Won away from the mansion. They go to a rest/lake house somewhere in the woods. They're getting cozy when Gyu slips into an episode (triggered by the house, childhood memory or the ice cream?) and gets rough with Won but they end up in a warm bundle."</p><p>(didn't want to put this at the beginning to not ~spoil~ the plot too much but see what I mean when I said I took liberties)</p><p>hehe anyway, 1 down, 11 to go! surprisingly I wrote this one in one sitting (notes says 26/11/2020) which is one of my most productive moments of late. I had fun, hope you did too, and merry Christmas to those who celebrate! otherwise, have a happy, happy start of the holidays.</p><p><a href="https://twitter.com/BLMINSMMR/status/1342475285912928257?s=20">twt</a> | <a href="https://curiouscat.me/bloominsummer">cc</a></p></blockquote></div></div>
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